


Blue Paladin

by Sagartolen



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Ass-Kicking, Blood and Injury, Crash Landing, FUBAR - Freeform, Friendship, Gen, Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Major Character Injury, Missions Gone Wrong, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), nothing happens in the first chapter, poor lance, things go to shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-18 18:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10622937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sagartolen/pseuds/Sagartolen
Summary: “OK, so maybe he wasn’t as good as wonder boy Keith. But he could do this. He had to do this.”A routine scouting mission goes very wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

His sleep was broken by the ships internal alarm system. It entered his dreams like a persistent fly, irritating and determined. Lance groaned, rolling over and attempting to black out the noise. Like every morning his efforts were futile. And, eventually, like every other morning, he gave up and rolled out of bed. 

The wake-up bell sounded at 7:00am and he was almost certain that it had been put in place specifically to wake himself. None of the others seemed to have a problem getting up at unnatural hours. 

“I’m up. I’m up,” he complained when the annoying alert continued on until he started up the air blaster. God, he would kill for a real shower, getting hit with warm air just didn’t have the same rejuvenating effect. 

Luckily, upon his continuous nagging, Corrin had installed sinks that ran actual water. He knew the others were secretly thankful for his instance that they get a little human comfort. When one stranded far from home even little things made a difference. 

He splashed his face, squinting at his newly installed mirror and trying to get a good look at his pours. 

To skin care or not to skin care? Lance tilted his head back and forth, examining his profile. Distantly, almost non-existent, Blue stirred. Something akin to amusement filtered through their connection. He flashed his reflection a grin. Even if he hadn’t figured out how to directly respond to Blue, the presence was always welcome. 

An alert sounded and he glanced up the small screen adjacent to the mirror. Several notices scrolled by with general base wide updates. Nothing too pressing just a few corridors shut down for maintenance and the heating in levels three and two would be off for about an hour. 

He decided to forgo the beauty routine instead pulling on the two-part under-suit, which went under his Paladin armour. Skin tight, it contoured to every crevice on his body. He looked hot…too bad there was no one around to appreciate it. He sighed, pulling his armour plating from the sealed cabinet it resided in. One last check to ensure everything was fitted correctly. Nothing more annoying than having the armour pinch in odd places. Deftly, he smoothed his hair till it was the right combination of messy and neat. 

Then, yawning, Lance stumbled out of his room and towards the main kitchen. One of the smaller main kitchens on the ship, which had, like, twenty of them in various locations. This one was the cosiest in his opinion. 

“Morning,” he stifled another yawn as he entered, spying Hunk and Pigde, “What’s up guys?”

Hunk looked up from his meal.

“Morning,” he grinned. 

Pidge grunted from a bent position, leaning over a technological do-dad.

“Good morning to you too,” he commented, slumping into the adjacent seat. 

Neither Keith or Shiro were present. NO surprises there. They work up early, ate, then trained like the obsessive people they were. 

A plate appeared before him and a hose-like nozzle descended from over his shoulder to deposited food slop. He pouted, picking at the ‘food.’

“Green space slime again…delicious,” if there was one thing he wouldn’t be worrying about while in space it would be putting on weight. 

“Oh, it’s not all bad,” Hunk commented idly. Lies. Huck loved cooking and this slop was an abomination to all chef-kind. 

Lance fixed him with a side eye, “It’s got the texture of snot and the flavour of soggy flour.”

Hunk rubbed the back of his head, “We’re going to see that city on Betrex 4 today maybe they’ll have better stuff there.”

Pidge looked up from studying the mess of wires, “Betrex 4? The diplomatic mission?”

“Will we have time to eat?” was questioned.

“We better,” Lance muttered then brightened, “Hey, maybe they’ll throw us a fancy banquet, remember that pink planet had that awesome festival… and they’ll be hot chicks there,” he continued, warming up to the idea. 

“I mean,” he glanced at the slush, “how much worse could it be?” 

“Titus…enough said,” Pidge commented, putting aside the work. 

Lance grimaced, making a face. Titus; the planet where they had been served an assortment of live beetles and insects. He shivered. That had been scaring. 

“Well, the bar is fairly low at this point. So, I’m liking those odds,” he slapped a fist into his hand. Nothing wrong with a little positive thinking. Definitely not enough of that around these parts.

Pidge gave an eye role but Hunk laughed, nodding along. 

“Man, when I get back to earth the first thing I’m doing is getting a slice of mum’s meatloaf,” he continued, allowing his imagination to wonder. 

“Is this the same meatloaf you complained about weekly at the Garrison?” Pidge squinted at him. 

“Yeah. So. It was her signature dish,” he defended. 

“Well, when we go home, I’m getting a burger,” Hunk contributed.

“A burger. Lame,”

“What, and meatloaf’s better?”

“Hell yeah it is,” 

He enjoyed his time hanging out with Pidge and Hunk. It reminded him of their time at Garrison Academy. If he didn’t think about it too hard than he could even imagine himself back on earth in one of the mess halls. 

He glanced at Pidge noticing a sudden silence. 

“That’s if we go home,” Pidge sighed, glancing down at the work sped across the table. Hunk quietened as well, looking uneasy. 

And now everyone was depressed. Nice going Lance. 

“Hey, we’ll definitely go home,” he said with a lot more surety than he felt. 

Hunk and Pidge continued to stare despondently at their food. Lance ploughed on, “and then we’ll eat all the boring normal earth foods we like.”

Hunk perked up a bit. Lance grinned, leaning over to ruffle Pidge’s hair. Pidge pushed his hand away in irritation. Hey, he would take annoyed over depressed any day of the week. 

“And, while we’re on Betrex, we should totally find a place to shop. We haven’t been on an advanced planet in ages,” 

Pidge nodded with a bit more animation, “They’ll have lots of advanced tech,” 

Hunk’s lips twitched upward. When it came to amazing tech skills Pidge had the rest of them beat by a longshot but Hunk was no slouch when it came to engineering. 

“It’s supposed to be a type 1 civilisation,” Hunk commented, 

Lance nodded, “Exactly, type 1, doesn’t get much better than that.”

“Do you even know what a type 1 is?”

“Sure I do. It’s got, like, a lot of good tech, space travel, and stuff,”

Pidge peered at him in suspicion.

“You didn’t read the brief did you,” Pidge accused, pointing. 

“It was twenty pages long..,” he huffed. Half the stuff in those reports was about politics, government and other boring crap. Probably outdated given that the Alteans hadn’t been in contact for 10 000 years. Besides, he was a lot better at learning on the job. Even when encountering different cultures, he could generally pick up on signs and signals quicker than most. 

Pidge face palmed, “This is why we never get to go to the diplomatic meetings,”

“Pst. Boring,” he waved away the response, “and Hunk didn’t read it either,” he jabbed a finger sidewards. Hunk had always been a last-minute-read sort of guy due to his nerves. 

Hunk spluttered, “Hey…I skimmed it…before bed,”

“and, if I’m not mistaken, you only read the summery.”

Like himself Pidge rarely did their assigned readings often getting distracted by one of many personal project. The only difference was the other was smart enough to get away with it. 

Pidge coloured, “the summery is all you need.”

Lance gave a smug expression.

“What?” Pidge snapped.

He crossing his arms,

“I was working on upgrading the Green Lion’s in-combat shielding system. It’s been flaky since it took that hit a few weeks ago,” 

“Uh ha,” he nodded along. 

He received a punch to the shoulder. 

That was his team for you. None of them had been amazing students. Probably why they had been lumped together in all their classes. Of course, they had all gotten a hell of a lot better since then. Especially when it came to physical and team training, seeing as their lives depended upon it. 

Pidge turned back to the box of wires grumbling but in a considerably better mood. Hunk went back to his meal and he followed suit. 

“You going to eat that,” Hunk asked after Lance scoffed down the required daily intake. 

He pushed the plate over. 

“Paladins please assemble in the control room,” Allura’s voice echoed over the intercom. Hunk signed and tipped his leftovers into the disposal unit.

Lance popped up, stretching. 

“Let’s get this show on the road,” 

He attempted another hair ruffed but Pidge ducked, darting towards the door. Hunk, who had been in mid turn, stumbled when the other brushed past, pushing Lance forward. They all spilled into the hallway. 

There was a surprised grunt and he twisted, narrowly avoiding Keith who hand been pushed to the side by Hunk’s larger bulk. There were several seconds of confusion in which everyone flailed about trying to regain balance. 

“You idiots,” was directed generally in his direction. 

“Keith,” he greeted at the downed Keith and was met with an irritated eyebrow twitch of irritation. 

“Sorry,” Hunk apologised, pulling Keith upright. He looked ruffled. Probably hadn’t been expecting them all to come flying out of the kitchen like that. 

“Come on. We’ll all be late if we stand around,” Keith instructed once he regained composure. 

“Hey. Who was standing around,” he retorted after Keith who had set a brisk place down the hall.

He spluttered, “You see that. He ignored me,”

Both Pidge and Hunk gave him a flat look. 

“Do you think we’ll be fighting today?” Hunk started walking after Keith. 

“Who knows,” he shrugged, pouting. 

Pidge’s eyebrows creased in thought, “Well, apparently, the Betrexens were close allies with the Alteans way back when,”

“So…No fighting?” Hunk asked hopefully. Hunk had never been keen on violence. 

Lance shrugged again, “Even if there is…I’ll kick ass for you,”

He gave Hunk a thumbs up and was met with a bemused expression. 

“Thanks?”

Lance grinned and nodded to himself, “Got to impress those Betrexen ladies,” 

Pidge gave him that adorable squint of irritation, “Is that all you think about?”

“Can’t keep the Lance-meister down you know,”

Hunk huffed, “Better hurry up or the Lance-meister will be late again,” 

“I think the Lance-meister should spend less time worrying about ladies and more time studying mission briefs,” Keith shouted from up the hall. 

“No one asked you!” 

That bastard has been eavesdropping! Despite his and Keith’s totally justifiable argument almost getting physical they all made it to the control room in the allotted time. 

Shiro stood to one side of the central display and had that pained brooding expression he always got when he thought no one would notice. But it took more than that to hide something from the old Lance-miester.

“Good morning Shiro,” he greeted with as much enthusiasm as he could get away with. Shiro startled as if just noticing their arrival. 

Pidge and Hunk sounded off their own greetings. 

“Good morning,” Shiro returned, shrinking down the data pad and fitting in his back pocket. 

“Nice to see you all punctual,”

Lance crossed his arms. That comment had been obviously aimed at him. He didn’t let it bother him instead turning his attention to Allura and Corrin who had just entered. She was beautiful, as usual, all floaty white hair and sparkly eyes. 

Lance sauntered forward, “Allura may I just say that your eyes are especially blue this morning,” pause of effect, “And baby, I’m lost at sea,”

Allura gave him a perplexed expression. She had been building up a resistance to his pick-up lines but every now and then he managed to catch her off guard.

A loud groan from Pidge.

“What? That was a good one,”

A hand fell on his shoulder and Shiro pulled him back. 

“That was bad. Even for you,” Keith commented. Geese, tough crowd. 

Shiro cleared his throat. 

Allura started, regaining control. 

“Right. Thank you, Lance. Paladins,” Allura acknowledged, “Let’s start the briefing.” 

He was so underappreciated. 

“A few weeks ago I received a missive inviting us to discuss an alliance,”

Sha gestured towards the display which was now projecting a miniature model of the planet. 

“The Betrexen were and still are great manufactures of technology and an alliance would be hugely beneficial.”

“Could be a trap,” Keith injected. 

“I know there are risks but the Alteans and the Betrexen were close allies for many years before the Galra came to power. Recent scans of the area show no current Galra activity.”

“I agree with Keith,” he hated agreeing with Keith, “this seems too good to be true,”

“We can only have faith that they will still value our friendship and that their distance from the Galra Central Command System has left the civilisation unscathed,” 

Lance glanced at Shiro who had so far remained silent. Well, if Shiro thought it was worth the risk than maybe it would be alright. 

“Of course, we’ll still need to be careful which is why the Lion’s will be going in first to scout the location…” 

Allura droned on and Lance’s eyes wandered to the spherical map of Betrex 4 as is slowly twist in the hologram. He tranced the many coast lines the planet seemed to have, narrowing his eye’s. Was that what he thought it was?

“… does anyone have any questions?”

He gasped, thrusting his hand up. 

“Yes Lance,” Allura said, voice tinged with suspicion. 

“Is that a beach?”

She glanced back, “Yes. It is a…beach,”

He was the subject of several confused expressions.

“I’m hyped,” he interrupted, “Who’s hyped!” 

Keith opened his mouth, probably to say something disparaging. 

“They have beaches guys. Beaches. You know what that means.”

Blank looks all round had him rolling his eyes. How did he get suck with such an unimaginative bunch?

“Swimming?” Huck guessed.

“Yes. Swimming. And Sun bathing. Sand. Sandcastles. Cute swimsuits. Especially the cute swimsuits,” he listed. 

Comprehension flited across their faces. Finally. Being trapped on the ship was turning everyone into sticks. Space was beautiful and amazing but it did not change much. Long term space travel would end up driving them all crazy. Something like this was exactly what the doctor ordered. 

“Something important about the beach?” Allura questioned.

“Something important? Try one to the most tried and true human relaxation rituals around. You’ll have to wear a bikini that’s the most traditional earth…ouch,”

Shiro had wacked the back of his head before he could finish the sentence. 

“Ah yes,” Coran jumped in with the enthusiasm he reserved for wacky anochdes, “we had a similar tradition back in the day. Whoever could swim the most laps without throwing up was named the Rai Rai Campion,” 

“What fun to once again be competing in such a noble bonding activity,” 

“What he said,” he jabbed a thumb at Coran. With Coran on board the likelihood of everyone listening to him would double. 

“Haven’t been swimming since primary school,” Pidge mumbled. 

“I think it would be fun,” Hunk supported. 

Good old Hunk had his back. 

Keith, who was giving him a look of wariness, interjected, “We shouldn’t waste time swimming when…”

“What’s that, Keith, is that alarm I detect. Surely, the amazing Keith isn’t afraid of a little water,”

“You know I can swim,” Keith retorted. 

“Chicken,” he proclaimed. 

“I’m not…”

“OK, that’s enough,” Shiro interjected, giving him a look. Lance held up his hand, backing up and grinning. 

“We’ll see about swimming later,” 

“Yes,” Lance made a fist. 

“In the meantime let’s all get ready. This will be a low combat mission so we will be trying out some of the new formations…”

Shiro had been implementing several new strategies which revolved around NOT forming Voltron and instead relaying on the good old fashion version of team work. It was supposed to help them increase their individual skills. ‘We can’t rely exclusively on Voltron… blar blar blar…

“…will be a good opportunity,” 

Lance startled noticing that everyone had started towards the door. He hurried to catch up, “Man, It would be so great if we could swim,” 

He elbowed Keith playfully in the side. He was the subject of an exasperated glance but he kept at his needling.

“I remember they use to get everyone to do laps back at the Garrison,” Keith finally commented.

“Ugh. The Garrison? No one likes swimming laps for hours,” Lance rolled his eyes, “I’m talking about the beach. You know. Relaxation. Ice cream. Volley-ball. The ocean,” he missed the ocean. 

“I guess it might be fun,” Keith acknowledge. 

“See,” he pointed at Keith, “even Keith says it’s a good idea,” 

“Yeah. Doing laps sucked…Except Pidge managed to get out of it,” Hunk answered. 

Lance rounded on Pidge, “Yeah, how did you manage that anyway,” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” 

He didn’t have time to harass for an answer as the ‘all hands to stations’ sounded through the ship. 

“Well, see you guys in the sky,” he waved, jogging towards the shoots which would take hi to Blue.

Pidge waved jokily back, disappearing down the corridor. 

The shoots to the lions were like a carnival ride but ten times more exhilarating. 

“Haha,” he couldn’t help but laugh. 

And then he was surrounded on all sides by Blue’s presence, soft and inviting like being enclosed in a cocoon. The space around him hummed in anticipation. Friendly static danced around him in blue bursts. 

The pilot chair zipped forward, allowing him to access the control panels. 

When he had first started piloting Blue the presence had been instrumental in guiding his actions. One didn’t just jump into an alien craft and know how to pilot it without help. He was now a better pilot than he had ever been at the academy. All thanks to Blue. 

An array of screens lit up, giving him an almost 360’ view of his surroundings. In the back of his mind Blue shifted, awakening and he embraced the familiar presence as it raced along his limbs. Semantics and readouts scrolled across the display. Blue shuddered, moving onto the launch pad. 

Keith and Shiro appeared on his screen in, what he liked to call, the group chat corner. 

“I still think this is a trap,” Keith’s voice came over the line, “I mean, 10 000 years is a long time,”

“We won’t know until be try,” Shiro responded sounding tired. That’s all they had been doing…trying. All you could really do against a regime that had been established for 10 000 years. They needed allies. 

“Besides its so obviously suspicious what are the odds that the Galra actually expect us to show up,” he tried to put a positive spin on the situation. 

“Thank you for that input Lance,” 

Hunk and Pidge appeared under Shiro and Keith. Lance finished up his main checks. Blue Lion was ready to go. 

“I think I’m with Lance on this one,” Pidge responded. 

“Everyone ready?” Shrio asked. 

Affirmatives all round. He nodded. 

“All Lions ready. Go ahead Allura,”

“Launching,”

The Blue Lion shot forward. His stomach dropped. Going from zero to intense g-forces was always a rush. They were practically flung out into space by the larger ship. 

He barely registered Shiro’s voice conferring coordinates with Allura… “Go ahead and open a wormhole,” 

“Right. Good luck Paladins,” 

A great blue vortex enraptured into existence, splitting the space before them. Around him Blue vibrated in anticipation. Shiro accelerated forwards. He took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. Blue’s repulses roared to life and he shot after Shiro. Adrenaline flooded limbs and excitement clenched in his chest. This is what he lived for, the thrill of flying, the rush and speeding through empty space. Nothing to hold him back. 

Shiro disappeared into the wormhole and he followed suit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my quickest ever update

The first thing he noticed was that the area around the planet was distinctly NOT empty. It was not as big as some of the other ships he’d seen but it was still intimidating with its spicks, lazar turrets and ion cannon strapped to the side. 

“You know, I may be wrong, but I think that’s a Galra mother ship,” Keith snarked. 

“Technically, it’s a small deep-space station,” Pidge pointed out, “We are quite far from the Galra main fleet.”

“Oh goody. Nice to know they didn’t bring in the big guns,” he started. 

“Lance,” Shiro cut in and he fell silent. 

Allua’s face appeared in their chat, “…Shiro what’s your status. Do you need a warp out of there?”

“No. There’s an entire civilisation on that planet which could be at risk…”

“A civilisation that sold us out to the Galra,” Keith interrupted, sounding edgy. 

“We’ll stay and do what we can. We don’ know the whole situation,” Shiro continued. The hull of the ship opened and a fleet of smaller ships spewed out, heading in their direction.

“We’ve faced greater odds,”

“This is sooo not a good idea,” Lance threw in his two cense.

“Do we need to worry about the Galra getting reinforcements?” Shiro ignored him, directing his question at Coran. 

“No. Nothing in the area so far.” 

Shiro nodded.

“OK guys. We’ll go in. Formation eight,” he ordered. 

Everyone sounded off their affirmatives. 

Lance eyed the mass of small ships almost in firing rang. 

Dam. There was a lot of them. Shit. 

Panic. It gripped his heart and curled in his chest like a viper, clouding his mind and preventing him from moving. Lanced pushed it down until it was a more manageable intense stress. Stress he could start to deal with. 

Come on Shiro. Call for Voltron already. Stuff the new battle initiatives. 

Of course, Keith charged off, head first into the conflict like a lunatic. Shiro and Hunk followed while he and Pidge hung back to provide cover. Neither the Green nor Blue Lion were suited to heavy close range conflict being more specialised for stealth and long rang respectively. 

“Keith, take the left flank,” Shiro ordered, “Hunk focus on disabling that ion cannon,”

Lance barely needed to touch the control board to bring up a detailed set of targeting arrays. Static buzzed around him signalling Blue’s anticipation. Pidge activated her stealth, shimmering out of existence. She would skirt the battle and pick off the main guns. 

Man, stealth mode must be super nice. He took aim, focusing in on serval of the smaller Galra ship’s hounding Hunk. Static twirled across his limbs as Blue’s tail lazar charged. There was no recoil only bright beams of brilliant sapphire racing towards the enemy. All his shot’s hit home, causing several craft to break away and converge on his location. 

“Well, this is fun,” he spun Blue into a role which would be exhilarating save for the many Galra trying to kill him, “what was that again? No Galra activity my ass,”

“You’re just mad you didn’t meet any hot …girls,” Hunk teased. In the distance, he could just make out the Yellow Lion bulldozing its way through the smaller ships and ramming the Galra shields. The shield flickered under the barrage. 

“Hmmm. Yes. Getting shot…hot girls… is there really a competition here?” he intoned, rolling his eyes. Not that anyone could see it. 

“Can the chatter,” Shiro cracked over the line. 

“Lance get some distance. See it you can take out those turrets,”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Lance pulled up bringing the command ship into his sights. He scanned his targeting array. It looked like Pidge had gotten bogged down by a crowd of smaller, more manoeuvrable, ships and Hunk was proving back up. Stealth mode wasn’t full proof, especially when you were shooting at people. That tended to get their attention. 

Several Galra followed as he twist around, lining up a several shot. Long distance sharp shooting was his thing. His main lazar cannon fired, perforating the Galra shield and hitting a gun turret. 

A warning flashed on one of his side screens accompanied by a light tug, signalling that Blue thought it was important. Lance glanced sideward. 

The ion cannon. It was powering up. No one else had noticed, being too engaged in their own battles. What was it aiming at? Not the settlement. There was nothing in rang at the moment.

Lanced pulled Blue into a tight turn and two tailing ships overshot them. He let loose a couple of shots, watching at they found their targets. He was then forced to weave out of the way as several other Galra ships targeted him. 

“Paladins,” Allura cool voice echoed over the comms, “I’m detecting a surge in power,”

No shit. The thing was practically glowing now. 

Keith zipped past in a series of explosions, leaving his assailants as lifeless wrecks. Show off. 

Lance took the small reprieve to glance back over the warning. A series of semantics and calculation. What was it aiming at? The Planet? Why would it aim at the…oh. FUCK.

“PIDGE. MOVE!”

He spun the Blue Lion, blasting forward into the main mass of the battle, ignoring shudders when several shots glanced off his shield.

“What the hell,” Keith shouted when he rocked past. 

“PIDGE!”

The Cannon fired. Red light split the void, disintegrating several Galra vessels, closing in on the unaware Pidge. His eye’s enlarged, his breath caught, his chest tightened.

“Lance. What are...”

The confusion in Pigde’s voice froze his blood. She wasn’t moving out of the way. Why wasn’t she moving!?

Faster he needed to go faster…

He wasn’t going to make it.

The beam hit, punching through the Green Lion’s shield as if it were crate paper. It ripped, flinging bits of the craft away so they scattered, spinning through space. Time slowed. Sounds of battle and explosions died away…even Blue’s presence faded, replaced by a sense of complete an utter dread and horror. 

The Green Lion, almost ripped in two, started falling towards the planet below.

“No!”

Lance hit the brakes, pulling hard on the controls so he was angled down. The sound of metal straining echoed around him. 

“OK Blue…Punch It,”

They plummeted like a stone, hurtling towards the Green Lion, which was spiralling out of control, end over end. He was forced back into his seat as Blue continued to accelerate.

He couldn’t let the Green Lion hit the ground. Not with that sort of damage. Pidge wouldn’t survive the impact. Eye’s watering, either from desperation or the sudden increase in pressure, breath short, heart thundering, he dropped.

“Pidge come in,” he tried over the com. Nothing.

“Pidge,” 

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Pidge was probably just unconscious…or something. 

“Just hang in there, I’m coming,” 

He pushed Blue to accelerate faster.

“Lance,” his com. buzzed, Keith’s frantic voice sounded, “what are you doing!!?” 

“Pidge is hit,” his voice was high pitch with panic.

“If you go in at that angle you’ll get caught in a…” the com. buzzed with static and interface as he hit the planet’s atmosphere, “…won’t be able to…up…in time…”

“Maybe you won’t,” his breath was coming out heavy, “I can do this.” 

He was a good pilot. It was something he excelled at even when he failed in some/most other fields. OK, maybe he wasn’t as good as wounder boy. But he could do this. He had to do this. 

Keith was right about one thing; this wasn’t a good angle of approach. He was coming in too steep. He winced as his target grew larger by the second, filling up his view. 

Too late now. The Green Lion raced closer. Several impact alarms sounded. A second set restraints snaked over his torso, securing him in place. Oh good, emergency systems were working. 

They hit. 

He yanked down on the Lion's claw-like landing gips, which were supposed to hold Blue down when traveling in the main ship. They gripped onto the Green Lion. He jerked forward.

Blue shook around him, flinging him to the side. The force of the Green Lion’s spin tore control from his grasp, dragging him and Blue into a tail spin. Together they plummeted towards the planet, gravity pulling them down like an inescapable fist. His vision burred, red around the edges, and his head throbbed.

Lance grit his teeth, yanking at the controls. He could do this. Alarms bleared all around him, large and obnoxious. Warning signs flashed red and purple across the screens. 

“I know, I know,” he snapped at the display. 

Come on Blue they could do this. Just a bit more. He diverted all power to engines and stabilisers, sacrificing his primary shields. Without shields is would be a bitch hitting the ground but at the rate they were going they would to be torn apart long before. 

A dreadful creaking and straining. Blue was going to need one hell of a makeover after this. 

He rentched both Blue and the Green Lion from their spiralling nosedive of death. Of course, they were still hurtling towards the planet. No time to congratulate himself 

He needed to deaccelerate. 

He needed deaccelerate fast or they were both pancakes. And not the good kind. 

More alarms. Louder this time. They would definitely be hitting the ground, now it was just a matter of damage control. 

“Blue,” he snapped, “I know,”

The alarms reduced to a more manageable level. 

He frantically began searching the quickly approaching landmass for a place to crash land. A series of scans popped up on screen with suggestions. A series of rocky cliffs. No. Desert. No. Forested marshland…It would have to do. 

Carefully, he altered course, wincing at the loud groaning which accompanied the action. 

Everything rattled and the ground raced towards him until he could make out the tops of trees and the path of rivers. Teeth clenched, muscles straining, he eased Blue into a position more parallel to the ground. The air was stuffy and overheated, sweat began to trickle down in face, getting in in eyes. Bits of heated metal were flung away in their wake. 

They were slowing but, he did the calculations, it would not be enough. He began manipulating Blue so they could take the brunt of the impact. Blue was in better condition than the Green Lion.

Impact in 5

4

He grit his teeth.

3

2

This was going to hurt…

1

His body was jerked forward. Sharp pain. 

Nothing.

.

.

.

A soft pressure, cool as water, cradled his body. He was floating, drifting. It was calm…peaceful…

An icy finger brushed against in thoughts and for a moment he mistook it for Blue, waking him after one of his sneaky cockpit naps. 

The ice became a dagger. Noise, high-pitched and jarring, cut through the serenity more grating than any alarm clock.

He gasped.

Then he was in pain.

Lots and lots of pain.

He attempted to open his eyes.

Darkness. His heart thud. Fear. His vision failed to clear. 

A few slow seconds dragged by and his sight cleared enough to make out the fuzzy online of Blue’s completely trashed cockpit. 

Holy shit. He was alive!

The ungodly noise was the sound of alarms and various warnings, which had all taken on a feverish pitch. It was almost like Blue was sounding her distress. 

He took a deep shuddering breath, gasping. Pain gripped his chest, causing him to wheeze. Smoke filled his lungs and he coughed. The pain got worse. 

“Blue,” he gasped between coughs, “I need ventilation,”

A horrid clanging and the extraction units started up. At the back of his mind he could feel Blue shift, the sensation sluggish. At least she was still responsive.

Lance gulped in some of that sweet sweet, not smoke filled air. 

Pidge. He needed…Pidge. Thoughts and plans were coming in foggy and disjointed. He began to struggle in his position, on his side, slightly suspended. The seat belt. He needed to get out of the seat belt.

His figures fumbled with the emergency release, yanking at the restraints. 

Thud. His body hit the ground hard. Pain, more pain. He groaned, clutching at his side, curing inward. There was definitely something wrong with his ribs. His head felt heavy like it was being put through a garbage compactor. He reached a hand to his temple, running it along the edge of the helmet, yup, that was a head injury. The pressure was unbearable. A few desperate moments grasping with his helmet and he managed to yang it off. It thuncked twice, bouncing across the floor. 

He grappled up for a hand hold, leveraging himself upright. Dash screens flickered on and off, throwing seizure-inducing light around an otherwise completely dark cockpit. Exposed wiring sparked. Disorientated, he looked for the exit. He wobbled, stumbling to the side. His shoulder hit the wall with a clang. He winced. Well, he found the door.

If Blue was this wrecked, then what was the Green Lion like? It had been practically disintegrating even before hitting the ground. But Blue had taken the brunt of the impact so maybe, maybe it wasn’t as bad?

The world blurred and he groped for the manual release. A hiss as air rushed out the opening almost taking him off his feet. Bright daylight hit his retiners, forcing him to screw his eyes closed. 

He stumbled down to the edge of the opening, catching himself just in time and preventing himself from falling a good five meters. 

Brown marsh and green scrub stretched towards a series of large rock formations, which dotted the horizon. A piece of the Green Lion, the hind leg to be precise, marred the otherwise unchanged landscape. 

He needed to get to Pidge. 

Slowly, he knelt. Then he swung down from the lopsided opening, ignoring the pain in his chest and side, dropping in to the water below. The marsh reached his knees and he ended up stumbling and taking an unceremonious dip into the murky water. He splashed around in disorientation for a few seconds before finding a foothold and heaving himself upright. 

He did not make it very far before he was bending over emptying the contence of his stomach. The spew matched the mash, a sickly green. Lovely.

It was a struggle, wading while dizzy and nauseous, but he did it, circling the Blue Lion’s bulk. By the time the Green Lion came into view his breath was coming hard huffs and his side felt like it was being continuously stabbed over and over. Half submerged, missing two limbs and a good chuck of its torso, old Green wasn’t a pretty sight. 

A few gasps of air and Lance was hurrying forward again. The Head was mostly intact. The ball of anxiety and panic lessened. The was still a chance...Pigde might be OK. 

He splashed over as quickly as possible, stumbling as he went. Soaked to the bone Lance fought his way to the Lion’s mouth, running a hand along its surface searching for the hatch which hid the manual release. 

It was firmly jammed shut, either from damage or the Green Lion being a bastard. Fingernails chipped when he tried to jimmy the hatch open. 

Oh come on. 

He pounded his fist on the panel. 

“You stupid cat. Let me in,” he aimed a kick at the panel. 

He needed to get in. 

“Please,” he whispered resting his head on the door. He needed to see Pidge. 

A hiss of hydroliks and he found himself falling backwards to avoid the quickly descending ramp. 

He scrambled up out of the mash water and into the opening not waiting for the ramp to fully descend. 

Lion cockpits were all small with only room for one centralised seat, a control panel and a spread of display screens. There was a hatch in the ceiling for maintenance and a main entrance behind the pilot’s chair which connected to the Lion mouth. 

The light streaming in from the entrance illuminated a small chuck of the otherwise silent cockpit. Momentarily blinded by the change in light he squinted at the devastation. The cockpit was absolutely shredded. Unlike Blue, who had been sparking electricity all over the place, the uprooted consoles were lifeless. Everything had been ripped apart. He stepped in and almost fell when his foot slid out from under him. 

Red liquid pooled at his feet, trailing into the gloom. Lance braced himself against the doorframe.

He traced the crimson line, following it to the shadowy form of…

Pidge…OH shit.

A jagged gash stretched across the others chest, trailing from shoulder to hip. Something had sliced the armour, shredding it into useless pieces and…and…blood. That was blood. It pooled under the others prone form, seeping through the jagged cracks in her chest-plate.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh my God. There was so much blood. 

He couldn’t. He couldn’t. 

His breath was coming in short gasps. He couldn’t do this. 

Pidge was dead. Had to be dead. Oh God. Pidge was so small. That was a lot of blood. How much blood could one small person possibly have in their body?

The nausea was back and he retched, doubling over.

No. 

He needed to check. Lance pulled himself upright. 

On unsteady legs, he stumbled closer falling to the ground, shaky hands hovering indecisively over her torso.

Her chest. It was moving. 

Relief was followed by more panic.

He needed to do something. Anything. He needed to…Stop the bleeding…Airways….Lungs…

All medical training and drills trickled like water from his thoughts to be replaced by an overwhelming cloud of panic. 

Stop the bleeding. 

He focused on that one thought. He knew how to do that. He could do this. Each Lion had a fully stocked medical emergency kit with the latest in Altean medical tech.

With trembling hands, he emptied the contents of the kit onto the ground, scrabbling for the emergency patch set. He unscrewed the nosel, almost dropping it in the process, placing it against the wound, which was still oozing. He hit the Activation and a stream of blue coloured foam began to discharge. Carefully, he moved the implement down Pidge’s chest until it completely smothered the wound. 

The foam would solidify, stop the bleeding, seal in the wound, it was also an anaesthetic, preventing infection. It wasn’t a permeant fix. It dissolved naturally into the body after twenty-four hours. But it would stop the blood lose. He hoped. 

Now. Airways. Breathing. He needed to apply bandages. Seal the wound? 

What now? There were a lot of other injuries. He tilted her head to the side and attempted to see down her throat. One of her legs was completely mangled. Was that a bone? He froze. 

Breath. In. Out. Don’t think about it. 

The next few minutes stretched before him, transforming into days or weeks. Never ending. He just needed to keep going. Fix that. Inject this. Rap with the self-hardening cast. Apply the magic goo. Pray that it worked. 

By the time he had Pidge stable…dyeing slower…the light streaming in from the opening had dissipated and the air had grown cold. 

He sat back, legs numb, arms heavy. 

Carefully, he repositioned so he was leaning against the wall. Through the opening he could just make out a deep purple horizon. He glanced back at Pidge, who was looking more bandage than person. If he focused, he could make out the shallow rise and fall of her chest. 

He should try and contact the others…He lay his head back, closing his eyes. 

After he rest his eyes…just for a few seconds. 

. 

.

.

Lance awoke shivering. 

He was slumped, curled against a wall. Cold moonlight streamed through the open entrance, bathing his surroundings in ghostly silver.

Pidge, less than a meter way, was lying in the same prone position. She was shivering. Shit. If there was one thing he knew it was that someone with those injuries should not be exposed to the cold. 

On shaky legs, he attempted to stand, failing and collapsing back in place. He would give his soul for twelve hours uninterrupted sleep. Careful not to move too fast he shuffled forward on his knees. 

In the low light Pidge looked peaceful. If he squinted he could almost imagine she was asleep.

Shivers were running up and down her body. He lent in close, ear pressed agents her chest, ignoring the feel of dry blood against his face. Her breath was shallow. Stuff sleep, he would give his soul if only to see Pidge somewhere that wasn’t the hard metal floor of a lifeless ship. 

With no small amount of agony Lance stripped off his amour, then the top half of his under-suit. His ribs protested the movement. Carefully, he draped the garment over Pidge. It covered the top half of her body with ease. 

Lance rubbed his arms as the night chill hit his bear skill. It wasn’t enough. A cool breeze wafted in through the open door and a shiver ran up his spin. Still on his knees, he crawled over to the door, fumbling around for the controls. A loud grown echoed around the cockpit and the door rattled close, plunging everything into darkness. 

Shit. Lance felt blindly along the floor until he came to Pidge. Ignoring the patches of wet blood and probable other bodily fluids he carefully lay down. Her body was chilled and he curled in as close as he dared. 

For several seconds, he watched her still face before exhaustion pulled him away and into a restless sleep


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May have a few grammar slip ups.

Lance awoke a second time to a dry throat and a pounding headache. Disorientated, he tried to sit only to be harshly reminded of his injured ribs, which halted his movement. Every muscle screamed in protest. For a few seconds, he panicked, confused. Blue’s probing presence grounded him, calming his anxiety. Breathe in. Breathe out. Stamp down that anxiety.  Groggily, he turned his head to the side, squinting at Pidge. A line of daylight cut through the cabin’s gloom, falling on her unmoving face. In the dark, it was hard to make out any further details. He held his breath, listening to her soft exhales. She was still alive.

 The relief was short lived. Lance groaned, raising a hand to rub his head, dried blood cracked under his fingers. It was going to take a crap load of shampoo to get this shit out. He grimaced.

Unsteadily, he heaved himself into a seated position. He sat back, glaring dazedly at the door. The first attempt at standing failed spectacularly and had him curled on the ground clutching his side. The second was more successful. Cautiously, he staggered over and pulled at the hatch near the doorframe. It didn’t budge. Whatever power it had had the night before was gone, forcing him to pull apart the hydraulics in one of the control panels. As his engineering skills were subpar at best the process just about killed him.

Eventually, he managed to coax the door into opening. It creaked and rattled under his strained pushing, lowing downward. Yellow light flooded the compartment and he brought up a hand to shade his eyes.

Warm air replaced cold, chasing away the previous night’s chill. A fresh gust of wind ruffled his hair, easing his headache. Lance took a deep breath, letting it go in a long exhale. Marsh water lapped at the entrance and a fist-sized, fly-like, creature buzzed past.

He lift his arms, intending to stretch his stiff shoulders. Unsurprisingly, sleeping on hard metal was not easy on the joints. This turned out to be a bad idea. He hissed when his ribs made their state known. In the light his bruises looked ten times worse, wincing he poked at the tender flesh. His right side was especially spectacular, sporting discolouration which stretched up his torso in mottled purples and greens. Dozens of smaller, hairline cuts trailed up his arms and across his front and back. Like he had been cut with a thousand tiny shards of glass. Several deeper scratches, near his neck, stung and itched. Dried blood and other muck caked the other half of his body form where he had lain next to Pidge. He looked like a total wreck. Lance grimaced again, rubbing at the grime, trying to peel it off.

A few seconds of useless scrubbing and he gave up, retreating inside. It was a mess with medical supplies strewn across the floor, mixing in with exposed wiring and shrapnel. Now that he wasn’t going out of his mind with panic he realised he should have worked his way logically though the medical kit. It was organised especially for emergencies. Fat lot of good it was to remember that now.

He gave Pidge another check over, counting heart beats, they were slow, taking her temperature, it was too high. She had also started shivering again despite the warm temperature. A fever. Probably from an infection. Perfect. Someone up there really hated him, or they hated Pidge, or both. Half formed thoughts of potential fever induced brain damage and the dangers of sepsis ran through his head.

A bit of rummaging around found him the Stasis injection-thing. He looked it over. It was supposed to induce a stasis-like coma, stabilising the condition of critical patients. Roughly translated warnings printed across the back stated that the coma could only be reversed by a Healing Pod. It sounded dangerous but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice. He wracked his thoughts, trying to remember any additional instructions which may or may not have been covered in Coran’s quick first aid overview. Maybe he should wait? Indecision halted his movements.

Who knew when help would arrive? If Pidge continued to get worse there would not be a whole lot to do aside from sit back and watch her die. He knelt next to Pidge again, staring at the others unnaturally blank face. Carefully, following the instructions, he injected Pidge with the pick-tinted liquid. Almost immediately her breath slowed dramatically. For a few seconds, he panicked before forcing himself to calm. No more freaking out. He had done enough of that in the last twenty four hours to last him a life time.

A few more seconds past without any further changes. He released his held breath, slouching backwards.

Now what?

Lance glanced towards the door. He should try and get in contact with the others. The Green Lion was obviously not up for the task. Which meant he needed to get back to Blue and hope she was in good enough condition to make a call. As if in response the Blue Lion sent a wave of reassurance. He struggled back to his feet, making his way to the entrance. The mash water looked especially uninviting. He threw one last worried glance at Pidge, hesitant to leave her alone. What if something went wrong.

No. Don’t think about it. Lance stomped down the worry and anxiety, turning back to the mash water. Here goes nothing.  It was just as yucky as he remembered. Bits of plant matter and rotting vegetation snagged his legs and ankles as he waded towards the Blue Lion. Once there he eyed the entrance, which was suspended a good five meters off the ground. It almost dissuaded him from the plan all together. Only Blue’s encouragement prevented him throwing in the proverbial towel.

Lance looked around, attempting to find a good way to scale the distance without causing himself injury. The sun, big and red, beat down relentlessly. He shaded his eyes, scanning the surroundings. Already he could feel his body tiering. Eventually, he ended up dragging a hunk of metal near the opening. The action left him exhausted and sweating, forcing him to retreat back to the Green Lion and crack open a hydration kit. Swallowing capsules wasn’t nearly as satisfying as a refreshing gulp of water but it did make him feel a bit better. After quickly confirming that Pidge’s condition had yet to improve he trudged back outside and went about the task of scaling the side of the Blue Lion. All the while he could feel Blue’s silent support, pushing him to continue even after failing several times and submerging in marsh water.

Finally, dripping wet and covered in slime, he scrabbled into the Lions mouth. For several seconds, he lay near the edge, panting, letting his various pains rest.

 “Lance. Come in Blue Lion. Pidge. Anyone.”

He pushed himself up. That was Hunk! The sound spurred him into movement. He scrabbled forward, throwing himself at the controls. A few seconds were spent fumbling because everything was tipped on its side. 

“Yes, Hello!” he called.

Nothing. He scanned the podium. Blue brushed against his thoughts, directing his attention.

Dam the tractor was down. Which meant the connection was only one way. 

“Blue Lion. Lance, come on buddy,”

He stared helplessly at the console. Maybe it was just loose. It was worth a shot. He wiggled between the slabs of metal, yelping when something gave him a shock. A bit of fiddling and…

“Hello. Green Lion. Come in Lance, come in…Hey! We have a connection. We have a…Shiro! There’s a connection,”

He scrambled backwards.

“Hunk!”

He glanced around the cabin trying to pinpoint the microphone. One of the screens flickered on and off. Hunk's grinning face flickered in and out of existence.

“Lance?”

Hunk frowned out of the screen.

“Hey Hunk!”

He pinpointed the camera feed, and straightened it so it pointed towards himself.

“Oh my god. Lance!”

Hunk's voice was full of excitement. He was pressed towards the screen, eyes wide.

“Dude, it’s good to see you,” Lance responded, at the same time Hunk said, “Man, am I glad to see you,”

They ended up talking over each other with matching enthusiasm.  

“What happened?”

“Are you OK?”

“You look like shit,”

 “We have been trying to call for…”

“Hunk,” Shiro’s calm voice cut through their excited greetings from somewhere off camera, “Let me talk to Lance." 

Hunk's eyes darted across his features, concern marring his excitement. He glanced to the side, probably at Shiro, “Right.”

There was some shifting and Hunk shuffled out of frame to be replaced by Shiro. 

“Lance, it’s good to hear from you,” Shiro was mirroring Hunk’s worried expression, eyes flicking from his head wound to the series of small cuts running up his neck. Lance realised he probably looked terrible, missing his shirt and armour, encrusted in his and Pidge’s blood. Shiro didn’t look too hot either with big black circles under his eyes. It was a good thing the camera didn’t show his torso. Shiro would freak if he saw the bruises.

“Shiro,” tried to keep the embarrassing levels of relief from his voice, “am I glad to see you.”

Shiro nodded, “we were worried when we lost your signal,”

They had probably thought the worst. Well, they were half right. Pidge was in bad shape.

He grimaced. Shiro caught the movement and responded with a worried frown. But he didn’t comment instead asking seriously, “What’s your situation?" 

“It’s not good,” Lance glanced around at the Blue Lion’s wrecked interior.

“It’s bad. Really bad,” he paused hesitating, “Like, Pidge’s legs completely busted and there’s a huge chest wound, she’s lost a lot of blood...” How did one covey how utterly screwed they were?

“And she’s not waking up. I have, like, no idea what I’m doing. You know they only teach basic first aid at the Garrison? You know how useless that is? Half the medical supplies are in Altean and Green’s completely dead," 

“Whoa, slow down,” Shiro interrupted, “Take a breath,” he ordered, then, “Hunk can you find Coran?”

Lance took a deep breath. OK, calm, down. Shiro was already worried and Lance was probably making it worst. 

Shiro turned back to face him, “Now. Start for the beginning. Slowly,” 

“After Pidge was shot I tried, I dunno, to catch her, but we hit the ground pretty hard. Pidge is heavily injured, her legs definitely broken but I don’t think the chest wound is too deep, it just covers a lot of area. I’m not sure about internal injuries but she’s been unconscious since the crash.”

He took a breath to organise his thoughts, arranging facts.

“What about you?” Shiro asked.

Lance hesitated, “Uh, oh. I’m okay. My ribs took a hit and I knocked my head but other than that I’m good,” luckily the swamp water had washed away the worst of the blood.

Shiro gave him a suspicious frown like he knew Lance was downplaying his injuries. But, Shiro didn’t comment and just nodded, looking troubled and a tad frustrated.

“What are the Lion’s like?”

“Blue’s not going to be flying anytime soon and the Green Lion’s totalled…”

He paused again. 

 “Please tell me you’re just over the horizon,”

Shiro looked uncomfortable for maybe a second. Not good.

“We’ve been trying,” more frustration.

Lance’s earlier joy left him like a punch to the gut. His face fall.

“The Galra are threatening an orbital bombardment on your location if we move to intercept. Currently, we are at a stalemate.”

Orbital bombardment? He shivered. That would suck. 

 Lance nodded stiffly, “Ok, right, um, that sucks,”

“We have plans to scramble their systems and mount an offensive the moment our Lions are back to full power. Hopefully, with the castle as backup, we’ll be able to sneak a shuttle down the first chance we get.”

Wait, “What happened to the Lions. Is everyone alright?”

 Shiro’s lips twitched, “Everyone is fine. Keith tried to follow you down to the planet and Red got pretty banged up,”

Lance smiled faintly. That was just like the hothead, charging in without a plan.

Something caught Shiro's attention from off screen and he motioned with his arm. Coran joined him in frame.

“Hey Coran,” he greeted tiredly.  

“Lance, aren’t you a few shakes left of the Trefor tail,” Coran responded. Lance didn’t have the motivation to decode the odd sentence.

“Nice to see you too,” Lance returned, forcing a smile.

“I am told you took quite a tumble,” Coran was mirroring Shiro’s concerned frown. Wow he must really look like shit.

“Yeah a tumble,” he winced. His thoughts turned back to Pidge’s unnaturally still body.

 “Now, don’t be like that. Chin up,” Coran clapped his hands, “You have an injured teammate. Describe the injuries and the first aids actions you have taken,”

Lance winced, launching into as detailed a description as he could manage. As he spoke Coran’s face grew more serious. A few minutes were devoted to overcoming the language barrier and Lance received a crash course in Altean medical terminology.

 “…and you injected the Jada Stasis fluid?”

 “Yeah,”

“After you applied the Radar gell," 

“Yeah,”

Coran thought for a second. Lance’s stomach churned and worry clawed at his gut. What if he had done something wrong? What if he had made it worse?

A few seconds of silence before Coran seamed to draw himself together, “OK Lance. Here’s the nitty grit of the situation. It’s not good, I’ll tell you that. But if you keep our young paladin’s vitals down then we have more than a Pogs’ chance and that’s a lot more than nothing,”

There was a pause in which Coran peered at him expectantly and he straightened, nodding.

“Pidge will have internal injuries no doubt. Now, nothing you can do about that in your current situation, and for the love of quintessence don’t try,” Coran paused, appearing stern, “putting her into stasis was the best course of action. What you need to do now is give her supplements every three hours to prevent loss of brain function. Those comas are only supposed to last a few hours at best.”

Lance nodded along, committing the information to memory.

“Apply gell to all surface wounds to prevent infection then wrap, while the gell is still wet mind you, it with the cast,”

 Coran continued to rattle off a few more instructions.

“And that’s the lay of it. Really all you can do at the moment,” Coran stroked his moustache, appearing deep in thought.

“And make sure you see to your own injuries,” Shiro interjected.

“Huh?”

He refocused his eyes.

Shrio sighed, jabbing his figure at the screen, “You look dead on your feet. You’re no good to anyone if you keel over,”

“Umm. Right…” yeah that made sense. Wow he was really out of it.

“Lance you’re going to be okay,” Shiro’s voice was calm and reassuring, “you’re doing fine.”

God if he had never felt so far from ‘fine’ before. However, Shiro’s words did encourage him to stand a little straighter.

“Now go back to Pigde, do what you can,” Shiro commanded, before adding, “and make sure you eat.”

“Yes mum,” he rolled his eyes, “emergency rations are only marginally worse than space goo,”

“I promise, when you get back, I will personally hunt down a meatloaf,” Hunk interjected, pushing Coran aside.

Lance forced a smile, “I’ll hold you to that,”

The screen flickered and Shiro and Hunk both glanced away.

“We’re losing signal.”

There was a lot of shuffling and Shiro continued to look to his left.

“They are jamming the transmission frequency,” Allura’s frustrated disembodied voice echoed over the line, “Shiro you have five seconds,”

 Shiro turned back, giving him a reassuring nod, “Remember, take care of yourself. Keep calm. Monitor Pidge.”

“Yeah, Yeah…sure…aye, aye Captain,”

Lance gave a half-hearted salute.

“We’ll be there as soon as we can,”

“Hang tight, buddy,” Hunk waved.

The screen went black. “And we’ll be waiting,” Lance responded, trying not to to let the disappointment get to him.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes, “Just another day in paradise,”

For a few seconds he sat, staring despondently at the dead console, several wires sparked overhead. He ran a hand along one of the battered surfaces. Poor Blue.

“You really took a beating,” he sighed. In his thoughts Blue shifted and a soothing sensation filtered through their bond.

“It’s, okay,” his hand dropped to his side. ‘I’ll be okay,’ he mentally added.

Eventually, he scraped together the motivation to rummage around for the Blue Lion’s medical and emergency ration kits. With the mess he had made of Pidge’s he had a feeling he would need them. It was a bit of a struggle and required the excavation of several pieces of equipment. While he grappled with the lopsided structures he tried not to think about a potential orbital bombardment, which may come raining down at any moment.

Then came the painful reverse process of climbing back out of Blue. Lance eyed the distance to the metal slab he had moved in place. It wasn’t far but in his current condition it was probably going to hurt anyway. He dropped, landing on the slab of metal. The impact forced another groan from him and he almost dropped the ration kit into the marsh water below. It was water proof but the last thing he wanted to do was root around in a smelly swamp.

He waded back over to the Green Lion making his way over to Pidge. He did as Corrin instructed and inject Pidge with recommend supplements. He proceeded to obsessively check the rest of her injuries. Most of them were covered in a hard casing of foam and bandages which he was hesitant to remove. What he ended up doing was waste time staring, hoping her injuries wound magically heal themselves. When that didn’t happen, he shifted through the mess on the floor, picking out as much of the undamaged medical supplies as he could, and packing them away. Then he swallowed the recommended selection of nutrition and vitamin pills, following it up with a hydration pill. The capsule based meal did little to elevate his hunger.

Next he shimmied out of his pants, hanging the sodden item of clothing out to dry. It was now warm enough to walk around mostly naked and the feel of slimy whatever-advanced-material-it was, was not a great sensation. The action did reveal a rather serious looking cut on his thigh which was turning an angry red. 

Shiro’s instruction flit across his mind and Lance sat himself in the entrance, taking the medkit with him, examining a ‘self-adjusting brace.’ It took a bit of pain and tweaking to get the thing on but the compression was a huge relief for his side which had been steadily getting more and more painful. While he cleaned out the cut on his thigh he allowed his eyes to wonder over the landscape. Wetland and marsh with little dry ground. There wasn’t much else. If the temperature drooped like it had the night before then he would need some way to conserve warmth. Maybe he could force the door close. Maybe he could drag over that hunk of metal he had used earlier. He mentally put the plans to the side. To think, mere months previously, he had been at the Garrison going through his mundane school routine. Where his greatest worry had been scoring high enough on tests and not crashing the flight simulator. Now he was marooned on an alien planet with his biggest worry being a dying teammate. He was lightyears from his family, fighting a war he had no right to be fighting against an impossible opponent. Blue, sensing his depressed mood, prodded his thoughts.

“Hey, I’m not saying I regret meeting you,” he clarified to the empty space before him, directing the response at Blue.

 He allowed her soothing waves to wash over his mind.

“You know I love you,” Blue shifted, producing that humming sensation which Lance likened to a cat’s purr. Blue was probably one of the best things to happen to him.

Lance let his head rest on the door frame, squinting at the sky trying to estimate how fast the sun was moving. He need some way to measure when to give another injection to Pidge. It was directly overhead and, in the shade of the Lion, the warmth even felt nice. Large bug-like creatures buzzed across the landscape, generating a constant low hum. In the back of his mind Blue continued to purr. Exhaustion began to creep up his limbs as the past day caught up with him. Various aches and pains faded into the heat. 

 ….

 

_Lance was sulking. He knew he was sulking. Knew that the reason he was sulking wasn’t the best. The sounds of this family’s laughter, as they set the table for dinner, drifted through the thin floorboards. Across from the room stairs creaked. Footsteps hesitated outside the door. Great. The last thing he wanted was to deal with one of his nosy brothers._

_“Yo Lance. You in here?”_

_Lance continued to stare at the ceiling._

_“Lance the man,” Michel poked his head into the room, spotting his limp form sped over a bed and raised a brow, “What’s got you all down and depressed?”_

_“Michel,” Lance warned. Michel had a habit of teasing._

_“Whoa. That hostility. You got something you want to share with the class little bro,”_

_He remained silent, raising a brow in challenge, glancing in the others direction. He may be younger but he could out-stubborn Michel any day of the week. Michel crossed his arms, looking unimpressed._

_“Fine. Keep your secrets. I’ll go tell mum you’re feeling unwell,”_

_Ugh. That was unfair. Lance threw Michel a scowl. He didn’t want to drag mum into this. She had her hands full already._

_“‘Lance, you’re a decent fighter pilot,’” he quoted trying to emulate Commander Iverson’s condescending tone, "‘not the best, but you have some solid foundations._ It _would be a shame to throw it away,’”_

_Michel laughed at the impression, commenting, “But that’s a good thing,”_

_“No, it’s not,” he snapped. Michel gave him a perplexed expression, moving further into the small room._

_“Okay, I’ll bite, what’s eating you?” he sat on one of the three beds so he was facing Lance’s sprawled form._

_“I want to be better. Not just good or decent,” or all the other things he had been called._ _Being just ‘okay’ wasn’t enough._

_“Uh-ha,” was Michel’s dubious response._

_“It’s just frustrating being constantly compared to someone who isn’t even around,” he clarified. No matter how much he improved the ghost of Keith would forever be one step ahead._

_“Dude, chill,” Michel waved a hand in the air, “You were the top of cargo class, right?”_

_“Yeah, so. Any old pilot can fly a tanker from point A to B,” Lance bit, pulling himself upright. He accidentally disturbed a pile of laundry which tipped onto the floor._

_“Pst. Any old pilot, he says,” Michel rolled his eyes, “What I’m saying is you worked your ass off to get into that fancy academy. Worked your ass off to make it to the top of your class. So you might lack a little natural talent…”_

_Lance scowled, “Gee, thanks,”_

_“SO what,” Michel was interrupted, “You don’t get anywhere without hard work. And if there is anyone who doesn’t need to worry about not working hard it’s you,”_

_Lance relaxed his frown._

_“When you start next semester you’ll show those idiots what’s what,” Michel made a fist pumping motion._

_Lance huffed, raising a brow, “Since when did you become Mr. Pet Talk,”_

_Michel grinned, “Someone needs to pick up the slack while you’re off at your swanky school,”_

_He felt a brief pang of guilt at being away all the time. His family was growing and he wasn’t around to witness it._

_A friendly punch to the shoulder, “Am I right or am I right,”_

_Lance sighed, “Well, given the options…I guess you’re right,”_

_“Of course I’m right. SO hurry up and come down to dinner before mum has a hernia,”_

_He exhaled, giving in, “Okay, fine. Give me a second.”_

_“A second,” Michel confirmed, standing and stretching._

_“Don’t make me come back up here,” he warned, backing out of the room._

_Lance threw a sock at his head and the other shut the door laughing._

_Outside the room there was the muffled sounds of shuffling._

_“What’s wrong with him?” came the hushed voice of Gabriel. Why was his family so nosey? Not that he was one to talk._

_“He’s just being a drama queen,” Mitchel proclaimed loudly, then in a more subdued voice added, “Come on. Give him a bit of space,”_

_Lance listened the sound of several sets of feet crowding back down the stairs. He shouldn’t let Iverson’s comments get to him._

_Lance bent down to retrieve the stack clothes he had disturbed, putting them back in their semi-neat pile. He was about to stand when a quick movement caught is eye. A cat was sitting on the windowsill._

_“Hey Kity-cat,” he called. It jumped down onto the bed next to him._

_He held up a hand._

_“What are you doing here?”_

_The cat came forward, rubbing against his fingers._ _Lance ran a hand through its slinky fur, leaning forward to get a look at its coller._

_Crystal blue eyes met his own. There was the sensation of tugging and Lance felt himself slipping, falling backward. The world compassed inward, sinking down into darkness._

_…._

Lance jolted awake, slamming his head back and cracking it against the door frame. What? He jolted upright, jerking back and forth. Blue’s agitation was rolling over him in waves of discontent. He briefly flailed about before remembering where he was. The sun was low, sinking towards the horizon. Shit. He was on his feet, stumbling back inside, sinking onto his knees next to Pidge.

Hopefully he hadn’t left this too late. Coran’s words, ‘preserve brain activity,’ echoed about in his head. God, he hoped he hadn’t left this too long. He gave her another shot, wishing he knew what the hell he was doing.

Nothing moved save for the steady raise and fall of Pidge’s chest. At least she wasn’t shivering anymore. Lance allowed the adrenalin to fade, rubbing his eyes, trying to rid them of sleep. Despite nothing but continued stillness Blue’s agitation seemed to grow. Odd. Lance glanced about uneasily.  Now worried, Lance stumbled outside, hoping to locate the source of her distress. The giant buzzing bugs from earlier had vanished and the landscape was silent. Not seeing anything in the immediate vicinity he approached the Blue’s bulk, placing a hand on her exterior.

“What’s wrong darling,”

All that answered him was anxious murmurings. The tranquillity from earlier was gone to be replaced with creeping unease.  

Lance sighed, turning to examine the landscape again. At Blue’s urging he squinted upward. A dark shadow, small in the distance, spoiled the otherwise empty sky.

He froze, watching what could only be a Galra Battle Cruiser, slowly descend through the planet’s atmosphere. It was pointed in their direction.

Oh.

Well Shit.  


End file.
